“You’ll not be the first that has answered that. The others have ‘Hic Jacet’ engraved on their door plates. Well, it’s an unsatisfactory world at best, and Lard! they’re well quit of it. Still, you’re young.”
“And have yet to learn discretion.”
“That’s a pity too,” he retorted lightly. “The door is waiting for you. Better take it, Mr. Montagu.”
“With the lady?”
“I fear the lady is tired. Besides, man, think of her reputation. Zounds! Can she gad about the city at night alone with so gay a spark as you? ’Tis a censorious world, and tongues will clack. No, no! I will save you from any chance of such a scandal, Mr. Montagu.”
“Faith, one good turn deserves another. I’ll stay here to save your reputation, Sir Robert.”
“I fear that mine is fly-blown already and something the worse for wear. It can take care of itself.”
“Yet I’ll stay.”
“Gad’s life! Stay then.”
Volney had been standing just within the door, and at the word he stepped out and flung it to. I sprang forward, but before I reached it the click sounded. I was a prisoner, caught like a fly in a spider’s web, and much it helped me to beat on the iron-studded door till my hand bled, to call on him to come in and fight it out like a man, to storm up and down the room in a stress of passion.